


The Laugh Tracks

by OptimusCrime (almcvay1)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Gen, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-15 08:32:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8049439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almcvay1/pseuds/OptimusCrime
Summary: Brooklyn's former favorite sons have moved back home and they've brought the Falcon with them. Adventures in modern living with a fossil, a ghost and the man with wings.





	1. In Which Sam Tries to Explain the 90s

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MinP1072](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinP1072/gifts).



> My other fics are being difficult right now and I just wanted to write something short and funny. MinP1072 deserves co-authorship of this for being willing to play along with my weird head canons.

It turned out Natasha owned a small apartment building in Brooklyn, which made the rent very reasonable on the spacious three-bedroom unit. The Black Widow herself lived next door, and yet still remained as mysterious as ever. No one knew when she was home, no one knew where she went, no one was brave enough to ask any of those questions. Steve, Bucky and Sam moved in with as little fanfare as possible, unless you count the epic battle while assembling the IKEA furniture. They were pretty sure that wall had been damaged before they moved in.

 

Bucky adapted easily to modern technology, but then he hadn’t been asleep for seventy years so he actually sort of remembered how to use a computer. Web surfing gave him something to do while Sam and Steve were out and he soon found the internet was a weird place. He didn’t mind, since most people would probably find a WWII vet with a metal arm to be pretty weird. His favorite things are the nostalgia articles he found on the various decades. Ten things you loved in the 80s, fifteen things all 90s kids will remember. He asked Sam about the various things to see if they were true, since the former soldier grew up in those years.

“What the hell is a Furby?”

“It was a kids’ toy, super popular for a year or two and then...poof, gone like Cheetos at a Super Bowl party. Mostly they were famous for being really annoying. They were “interactive”, so they talked. The bad part is they would sometimes glitch, and then they wouldn't stop talking. Or they would start saying weird stuff. They got kinda creepy.” Sam laughed a little at the memory.

“Anyone you know have one?”

“Yeah, one of my little cousins. My aunt swears she took the batteries out of the thing and it would still blink at her when she walked into my cousin's room. I think she tossed it in the garbage later.”

Bucky pulled a face. Sam just nodded.

“Weird stuff in the 90s,man. Lots of it.”

Later on, Bucky placed a stealth Amazon order, arranging delivery to Natasha next door. Two nights later, while Sam slept, Bucky slipped in, placed the trap on his nightstand and turned it on. Just before he slipped silently out the door, he moved sufficiently to activate its motion sensors.

He's well on the other side of the door when he heard it come alive.

“Hi, I'm Furby! Wanna play?”

Sam's scream of alarm was punctuated by profanity and gunshots. Bucky stood in the hallway, trying to muffle his laughter until his eyes watered. Steve would disapprove of this, but he decided it was worth it.

The next day, Steve helped Bucky patch and paint the drywall in Sam's room. He sighed as he spread the last of the drywall mud over the holes torn by .38 caliber slugs.

“You know we're not gonna get the security deposit back, Buck.”

“How was I to know he sleeps with a gun under his pillow? I thought he was the sane one of us.” Bucky finished the sanding on a patch they had done earlier, checking the texture with his right hand. He can tell Steve wants to laugh under his “Captain America Disapproves” face.

“You’re lucky he didn’t shoot you.”

“With his aim, pfffft! Even if he had, still worth it.” 

Steve ducked his head as he put the lid back on the drywall mud and opened the paint can, but Bucky can still hear the muffled snort of laughter he tries to hide.

Yep, totally worth it.


	2. The Cat That Came to Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kitten adopts a Bucky.

Bucky honestly didn’t recall leaving his knapsack open as he sat in the park that afternoon. He tried to get out of the apartment once every few days; it seemed to mollify Steve, that Bucky was acclimating to the world. So he would grab a book and his iPod and walk the few blocks to the nearby park, find a shady bench and read for a bit. Too many people still made him skittish, but the fresh air was nice. He kept his music low enough to hear what was around him, and always chose the bench with the best sight lines. He may not be a brainwashed assassin any longer, but he hadn’t gotten stupid either. 

 

Steve and Sam weren’t home yet when he returned to the apartment, so he dropped his bag on the table and foraged through the fridge for snacks. He was cutting an apple when he heard it, and for a moment, he thought he was having some kind of auditory hallucination. His bag had meowed. Not very loud. But then it did again and then once more. Not a hallucination then. He left the apple on the counter and carefully eased the bag open.

 

There was a kitten in his bag. Next to his Sig Sauer. An tiny black kitten with white paws. Well, they would be white if they were clean at least. Bucky and the feline stared at each other, equally perplexed. Having made some sort of cat decision, the kitten hopped out of the bag and onto the table. Bucky immediately moved to recapture it.

 

“Oh no you don’t. You can’t be here, this is not your home. Who do you belong to?” He scooped it up with his right hand and checked for a collar. The animal was really very small in his large hand, and too skinny to be healthy. He sighed as it looked up at him with copper penny eyes. 

 

“Fine, I’ll give you a meal, but you can’t stay here. Steve’s allerg-” he stopped himself on a laugh. Steve had been allergic to cats. But it was probably a safe bet he wasn’t any longer. He gave the kitten a stern look.

“I’ll give you food and a place to sleep tonight. But tomorrow, you go.”

He swore the cat winked at him. Troublemaker. It hopped down to the floor and wove around his ankles as he searched the pantry for something to feed it. There was a pouch of tuna that Sam bought for sandwiches, would that work? He grabbed Steve’s tablet off the table and searched the internet for kitten feeding tips. The tuna would work for his purposes. He opened the pouch and scooped about half into a small bowl; grabbed a second bowl and filled it with water. He set the bowls on the floor out of the way, on a paper towel and put the kitten down in front of them. 

 

The cat dove almost completely into the water bowl first, splashing it over half the paper towel in its enthusiasm. It sniffed the tuna cautiously at first, but then began to eat in earnest. Bucky chuckled as he began to eat the apple he had left on the counter. Poor little thing must have been hungry.

Naturally, the next day, the cat would not go. Bucky had awakened in the morning to purring in his ear and tiny claws tangled in his hair. He swore quietly as he extracted it. He had managed to conceal its presence from Steve and Sam for the evening, but he wouldn’t bet on that luck holding. He would figure it out. But first, coffee.

Bucky’s luck held for two days. His roommates were unusually busy and not home much, which worked in his favor, especially now that Bucky knew the cat wasn’t going to leave. He ordered a small litter box online and some cat shampoo (bathing the tiny squirmy feline in the bathroom sink had been a dangerous adventure; he had the scratches to prove it) but he still had not named it. And he wasn’t sure how to introduce the idea to his friends. 

He was watching television on the couch, the cat perched on his left shoulder when Natasha wandered into their apartment like a phantom. 

“What have you got there, James?” She always called him James. Something about refusing to admit to being shot twice by someone with a name like Bucky. 

“Umm…” 

The kitten bounced down into her lap as she sat next to him, and began playing with the strings on her hoodie. He wondered if Natasha would take her (the bath had revealed that it was definitely a female cat) off his hands. 

“How would you like a kitten, Natasha? She could be company for you.”

Natasha’s laugh was a bright peal of bells. She gave the kitten a few more pats, then shifted it back to him, where it climbed his shirt back up to its perch.

“No can do. Besides, I think she is very attached to you.”

So much for that idea. 

Steve found out about his unauthorized houseguest the next morning, as a clatter from the living room revealed a cat, sitting in his shield.

“Bucky...why is there a cat in my shield?”

He had two choices, feign ignorance or own up. It had been three days, it was time for confession.

“She followed me home in my knapsack from the park. I was just going to feed her and then she wouldn’t go and…” he trailed off. Steve reached down for the animal with both hands, which was okay for about two seconds. Then there was a yowl, as she leapt from Steve’s hand and hid behind Bucky. Steve looked gobsmacked for a moment, before a grin worked its way across his face.

“No, Steve, get that look off your face. Right now.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Buck. But you should probably name your cat.”

“Shut it, Rogers, or I’m naming it after you.” Steve laughed as he returned to his bedroom to dress for the day. 

Bucky tried half a dozen names that morning, but nothing seemed to suit. He wasn’t really going to name it after Steve, because that would be weird. 

Sam discovered the cat when he left Redwing on the coffee table for some reason. He went to the kitchen for some coffee while he watched the morning news, when he came back to the couch, a cat perched on top of Redwing. 

“What the hell…? BARNES!!!” Bucky appeared in less than a minute.

“What are you bellowing about, Sam? It’s too early.”

“Yeah, it’s too early for there to be a cat sitting on Redwing, giving me the hairy eyeball. When the hell did we get a cat? And why does it keep looking at me?” Sam never took his eyes off the feline in question. Bucky laughed and went to scoop the kitten off the expensive tech.

“What are you doing, little one? You cause more trouble than a bad penny.” He stopped and smiled at nothing. Penny. The cat had a name.

He had a cat. The cat had a name that he had given it. He had mixed feelings about the responsibility of caring for a pet, but it would seem they were stuck with each other. Steve had laughed one afternoon as he tried to pet her, only to have her turn tail and walk back to Bucky, hopping up onto his shoulder as usual. 

“The ladies always preferred you, Buck. Guess that hasn’t changed.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. But he made an appointment at the veterinarian's office to get Penny’s shots and have her spayed. They definitely didn’t need any more kittens. One bad penny was enough.


End file.
